


This Is Not A New Year's Resolution, This Is A Promise

by ZombieliciousXIII



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Possessive Behavior, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5599024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieliciousXIII/pseuds/ZombieliciousXIII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Pete had an arrangement, sex, nothing more, nothing less. It was all fun and games until you lost your mind and broke your heart...</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Not A New Year's Resolution, This Is A Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Can't help but feel that this is fitting to be posted for the New Year, I hope you guys enjoy! Ha!

 

You look to your right at the tuft of dark hair beside you, your chest heaving with each deep inhale, body coated in a light sheen of sweat while you lay beside the man, tangled in his hotel bed sheets. Your (Y/EC) meet his brown and the two of you burst out into a fit of giggles, fuck, you knew you were drunk but not _this_ drunk - but then again, it's not like you actually cared. You suddenly squeal, arms wrap around you and pull you onto the taut body beside you so you're straddling him. You needed this, this was good...right? Pulling yourself from your train of thought you stare down at the musician, his thumbs stroking your naked hips somehow calming you...why did he have to be so kind?

"What are you staring at, Brendon?" You ask with a smile, placing your hands flat on his chest.

"Thinkin' about how you're so pretty," breathes Urie, dark eyes raking up your body before stopping at your face.

You knew Brendon meant it in a platonic manner, he knew what was going on - he was the only one - but that never seemed to stop him from being overtly loving towards you. And in all honesty just about everyone around him, especially Ryan - who apparently had the same arrangement you did.

"And you're fucking handsome," you chuckle, leaning down you kiss him softly before shifting a little to lay down on top of him.

You rest your chin on the tops of your hands and stare at him.

"Are you going to tell that to Ryan, by any chance?" You prod, unknowingly, this just how things would go between the two of you.

You and Brendon would sleep together to cope with your external emotional turmoils, followed by late night chats that lasted for hours, this was all second nature to the two of you now. There was no 'love' between the two of you beyond best friends, you trusted each other with everything, and somehow the sex didn't complicate anything - the two of you were thankful for this, despite how strange of a system it was.

"I tell him every damn day, he never believes me, stupid scarf loving idiot..." Brendon mumbles the last part, but you catch it and chuckle none the less. "Can I tell you something?" Asks the singer, pulling his eyes away from the ceiling to look at you.

"Of course you can, don't be stupid."

"Ryan and I hooked up during the break before this tour, like, a _lot..._ but I just felt like, I don't know, there was something...more?"

You smile, sitting up a little, "really?"

"Yeah," Brendon says, with a growing grin. "Fuck, (Y/N), he even slept over!" Exclaims the singer, his smile so wide it seemed like it may split his face in two.

"You have no idea what it's like, to have the person you're head over heels with _want_ to sleep in the same bed with you, all night," the brunette says dreamily. "I mean, sure, Ryan and I _have_ shared a beds in the past, but we were never naked, and he _never_ used to be the one to bury _his face_ in my chest!"

You smile happily at Brendon, but you couldn't deny the gaping hole you felt within you, because he was right, you really did have 'no idea' and his words hit you like a punch to the gut despite knowing that wasn't his intention at all.

"I was so happy, it's a surprise I even fell asleep instead of creeping on him all night," Brendon chuckles with a joker smile, you were happy for your best friend - regardless the envy you felt blooming in your chest.

"I'm happy for you, Bren," you say as happily as you can, maybe it wasn't happy enough, or maybe Brendon could see past your façade - despite his tendency to be oblivious as fuck.

"Fuck, (Y/N), I didn't mean-"

"Brendon, seriously, it's okay...I knew from the beginning Pete never wanted anything more than a physical relationship from me...it's okay," you finish in a whisper, burying your face in the singer's neck.

You try to swallow back your tears, Pete Wentz wasn't worth your tears -or at least, not any _more_ of your tears - but you couldn't deny it, almost a year of your arrangement with him left your heart broken and bruised. It's what drove you to Brendon in the first place, the very root of this strange relationship with your best friend. You knew Pete was sleeping with other people and you had been okay with it, at first, but despite the hurt you felt you never said a word because that wasn't the agreement, the agreement was sex and nothing more. Basically what you had with Brendon, but un-fucking-fortunately the heart wants what it wants, and yours wants Pete more than it cares how much wanting him hurts. You'd hit a breaking point, seeing Pete _openly_ make out with some chick at a New Years party is what made you drag Brendon in for a kiss heated in a dark corner at midnight - it's been almost a year since then. You and Brendon have been best friends for years, he knew all the secrets and somehow he could see in your eyes what you needed - what you _both_ needed - and happily gave it to you. There were times you were thankful for being a AP Magazine reporter, one of those times being that it's what lead you to meeting your now-best-friend Brendon. However, there were times you cursed the job, because it also lead you to meeting the charismatic, goofy, and yet somehow loving playboy Pete Wentz, he had you in the palm of his hand and you knew it.

Being on this tour meant the best - and worst - of both worlds.

"He'll come around (Y/N), you're an amazing girl and deserve to be happy," Brendon says softly, kissing your shoulder.

That's it, you've had enough.

You pull back a little, wipe a stray tear from your cheek and meet the singer's eyes.

"Maybe I do, but not with Pete."

"What do you mean?" Your best friend asks, obviously confused about what was going on in your head.

"I'm cutting ties with him," you say with determination. "I can't keep doing this to myself, just setting myself up to be hurt, I have to put a stop to it."

Brendon cups your face and says with sincerity, "(Y/N) you know anything you do I'll support, so if you want to do this I'll be right there for you."

You smile down at the musician, leaning down you kiss Brendon passionately, the kiss was slow but rough, it was a 'thank you' and he knew it, kissing you back with just as much vigor.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

While reporting for AP may have been your main job, on your off time you were a photographer and roadie - you were the latter two for this tour. Wheeling an amp backstage you heard someone call out your name, slowing to a stop you turn around to see Patrick jogging up to you.

"Hey, (Y/N), you got a minute?" Asks the blonde, smiling his shy dorky-smile at you.

"Yeah sure, let me just get this amp to Kevin and I'm all yours," you reply, he nods and you continue on your way - faster this time.

You return about five minutes later to find Patrick right where you left him, he was standing idly while messing with the hem of his baggy worn out shirt.

"Sup cutie?" You ask, coming up to the musician.

He quickly looks up and chuckles, "are you ever gonna _not_ call me that?" Patrick asks with a fake pout, but you could see the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

"I don't think so, you're too adorable for me not to call you that," you chuckle, resting your hands on your hips. "So what's up, 'Trick?"

"Could you do my makeup for the show tonight?"

You tap your chin pretending to think, it was Halloween night and you knew how fun dressing Patrick up would be - so least to say, you knew the answer the moment he asked.

"Fine, since you twisted my arm, I'll do it," you say with a shrug, trying to conceal your smile.

Patrick chuckles and shifts a little on his feet, he removes his hat only to quickly run a hand through his hair and fastens his shield from the world back into place.

"Hey, um...I was wondering, would you wanna get lunch with me before show?" Patrick asks, clearly flustered - okay, maybe a little more than his usual shy and awkward adorableness.

"Well I was going to help out back stage," you reply, looking up at him and want nothing more than to hug the young man. "But they don't need me, I'd rather eat with you."

"Really?" The blonde-redhead asks with a surprised smile, watching you with hopeful eyes.

"Really, really," You reply with a smile, it always kind of upset you that Patrick had such horrible self-esteem issues, he was such a wonderful person but never realized it.

"I think we should go before Andy sees us, lord knows he's probably beat us with his drum sticks if he found out," the singer chuckles, you nod and take his hand before running out of the venue.

"Then c'mon!" You laugh, the two of you running for the back doors.

You and Patrick burst out laughing once exiting the venue, after a few moments the two of you calmed down and begin walking down the street to a nearby dinar, being the gentleman Patrick was he held the door open for you and allowed you inside. Looking around for a place to sit you notice Brendon and Ryan in a corner booth and smile, turning you take Patrick's hand and lead him in the opposite direction, choosing a different corner booth.

"I feel like we're on a secret date," Patrick jokes, sitting down beside you. "Speaking of secret dates..." He trails, looking over at Brendon and Ryan.

"It's about damn time," you chuckle, the two of you nod with a smile of agreement.

"It really is, everyone _but_ Ryan could tell how head over heels Brendon is for him, and vice-versa."

"Tell me about it," chuckles the singer, picking up a menu from the table. "You hungry?"

"A little, I'm kind of craving fries," you reply, looking at the menu he held too.

"Sounds good," Patrick replies, putting the menu down just as a waitress walks over.

"What can I get you two?" The old woman asks sweetly, holding out a pen and pad.

"Could we please get two Dr Peppers and a basket of fries?"

"Sure thing, Honey," she relies, scribbling the order down on her note pad. "Anything else?"

"That's it, thank you," Patrick replies with a smile, handing her the menu.

The two of you watch the woman leave with your orders and there's a moment of silence, the reddish-blonde suddenly sighs and you raise a brow.

"Something up?"

"I don't know how to ask this delicately," Patrick mumbles, looking down at his hands while picking at his nails.

"Then just ask, you know I'm not easily offended," you reply lightheartedly, genuinely curious.

Patrick turns to look at you, eyes serious as he meets your gaze.

"Are you and Pete still fucking?"

Well, shit, that _wasn't_ expected.

"What?"

"You heard me, (Y/N)." Patrick says, voice serious yet kind.

"That's none of your business, Patrick," you say firmly, your mouth turning into a thin line.

"It is when I know he's just hurting you," he replies, light eyes much softer now.

"What...what do you mean?"

"I see the way you look at him, (Y/N), I know you're in love with Pete, or at least something close," Patrick sighs, running a hand through his hair, effectively knocking his hat askew.

You sit there stunned, his words like a punch to the gut. Were you really that obvious?

"H-How did you find out?"

"Pete told me..."

"He _what?"_ You hiss, anger bubbling in your chest.

"He and I were drunk one night and it slipped, I know he didn't mean for it to happen, he told me to keep it a secret but...I care about you, (Y/N), that's why I brought you here," Patrick says sincerely, looking at you with deep eyes but you could barely fight the urge to smack him.

It was _Pete_ who wanted to keep this, this _thing,_ between the two of you a secret. Where the fuck did he get off telling Patrick? Sure, Brendon knew but that's because he _found out,_ he walked by the right room at the wrong - or maybe right - time. You knew you weren't angry at Patrick, though, if anything you were thankful to have such a caring friend and it was Pete you wanted to hit with a 2-by-4.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I just..." The young man sighs, looking back at his nails.

You sigh, you couldn't blame Patrick for trying to do what was right, he didn't deserve that. Turning a bit more you hug the short singer, he was a little stiff at first but soon reciprocated the gesture. Patrick wasn't thin but solid beneath your arms, yet the most amazing person to hug, any girl that had him would be lucky. The two of you remained in silence for a long moment, you knew the question was coming and yet you couldn't help but flinch when it did.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm breaking things off with Pete," you reply quietly, as if trying to _not_ be heard.

You tried to conjure up the courage you had when you had said the same thing to Brendon, but you just couldn't. Patrick nodded, you noticed the waitress appear, the young man breaks the hug but doesn't break contact from you fully. Patrick opted to hold your hand, you were thankful.

"Thank you," the two of you say in unison to the woman, she smiles and nods.

"You're welcome," she replies, setting down a small basket with the receipt inside before walking away.

You and Patrick begin to talk, laughter and smiles ensue as you share the basket of fries, you were having fun with Patrick - or at least you were trying to. However, you couldn't help the nagging feeling that things weren't going to be easy, despite the comforting warmth of Patrick's hand tangled with yours and Brendon's words of support.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"Stop blinking or I really _will_ poke you in the eye!" You laugh, grabbing Patrick's jaw to keep his face steady.

He laughs, "I can't help it that you suck at this!"

"I do not, you jerk," you giggle, finally managing to apply the black kohl eyeliner. "Now for the eye shadow, liquid liner and ruby red lipstick," you say with a grin, pulling out the eye shadow palette.

"That's right--wait, lipstick?" Patrick questions, baffled. "I didn't know you were so _kinky,_ (Y/N)," the musician chuckles.

"What can I say, your lips are just _dying_ to be kissed!" You laugh, the singer joins you - you really enjoyed Patrick's laugh.

You hear a voice clear.

The two of you turn to the source and stop your laughter, "Pete..." you say, meeting the bassist's eyes - noting the glare.

"A minute, (Y/N)," he says, eyes flicking from Patrick back to you.

"I'm busy," you reply, turning to the table to grab the eye shadow brush.

He grabs your hand firmly, "Now, (Y/N)."

Pete tugs your arm hard enough for the eye shadow brush to fall from your hand, you flinch at the tug and Patrick immediately stands, glaring down at his best friend.

"Pete, (Y/N) is helping me right now, so would you kindly fuck off?" Patrick says, voice passive-aggressive but his eyes were firm.

The bassist promptly lets go of your wrist, "fine."

With a a melodramatic huff Pete stalks off, you and Patrick watchful leave before you release a breath you hadn't realized you've been holding, the your burning lungs felt the only indication for your body to force the air out of you.

"Well that was...something," Patrick says, gently taking your hand in his. "You okay?"

"Y-Yeah, I just..."you trail off, forcing a smile to fight off the tears. "Lets just finish off your make up," you say, trying to be nonchalant.

Patrick's expression lets you know he doesn't buy your false casualty but doesn't say a word about it and sits back down, which you're thankful for.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The show goes off without a hitch, but you notice Pete and Patrick exchanging glares every now and then, but the fans don't seem to notice - which you're happy about. You're now watching Panic! At the Disco's set, humming and nodding along to _I Write Sins Not Tragedies,_ smiling when you notice Brendon mouth some words into Ryan's neck and the guitarist smiles, leaning into the contact. Halloween night was the final show of the tour, and you were thankful for it - to an extent.

' _Looks like things have finally worked out for those two dorks,'_ you think with a smile, only for it to fade when someone pulls on your hand.

"We need to talk," Pete says, leaving no room for negotiation.

"Yes we do," you agree, voice flat and the bassist seems a little taken aback - whether at your tone or answer you weren't sure, maybe both.

You follow Pete up to his hotel room and wait until the room door is shut, the man turns around and folds his arms over his chest.

"Well?" He prompts, his voice and tone felt like a grate against your skin.

"Fuck you, Pete," You hiss, glaring at him.

"What the fuck did I do?" He replies, voice slightly raised.

"I get that what we agreed to was just sex, but I don't need to fucking _see_ you flirting with people!" You yell, your hands turning into fists at your sides.

"Just like you're flirting with Patrick?!" He yells, hands falling to his sides. "Or how you're obviously fucking Brendon? Yeah, I knew about that too, you'll fucking sleep with anyone yet get all bitchy when I--"

The room falls silent, the crack of your palm colliding with Pete's face the only sound in the hotel room. Your eyes sting with falling tears, yet you immediately feel bad for your action despite the overwhelming feeling of wanting to scream at the man before you.

"I-I'm so sorry, Pete I didn't--"

The man stops you, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips were your drug and you were an addict, that much you knew. However, you needed to end this...it couldn't go on. Yet don't know what possessed you, maybe it was because this was going to be the last time, or maybe it was your heart's desperate plea trying to convince you that remaining fuck-buddies would work, because the next thing you knew you were pushing Pete against the hotel room door and kissing him like there was no tomorrow - because the truth was there wouldn't be. The man doesn't fight you back and instead responds to the kiss, gripping your hips tightly and pulls you to him. You grip Pete's hair, tugging the handful and enjoy the way he groans into your mouth.

"Bed. Now," is all he says before picking up by your thighs, walking the two of you over to the hotel mattress.

The two of you fall onto the unmade bed and continue to kiss roughly, tongues fighting for dominance as he ruts his hips against yours. Pete practically rips your shirt off you, wasting no time, leaving no space for words for either of you. He undoes his skin-tight jeans, and yanks your off, pressing the heel of his hand against your clit, pressing on your clit through the damp fabric.

"Just fuck me," you breathe, staring up at him. "Give me something to remember..."

The bassist watches you for a moment but the meaning behind your words are - thankfully - lost on him. Pete attacks your mouth, kissing you long and hard before pulling off your underwear then his boxers. Each touch and caress was fueled by nothing but lust - something you were all too familiar with. Pete doesn't waste any more time, slamming into you, you nearly swallow you tongue at the sudden impalement, a deep and loud moan tears itself from your throat. The sec was rough, your eyes never left his as Pete stares down at you with dark eyes. A pang of hurt spreads through your chest, you couldn't look at him, so instead you kiss the musician, closing your eyes. Every tough set your skin on fire, your brain memorizes every touch and caress of his hands, the way his mouth feels against yours and the way Pete feels inside you. His thrusts were sloppy and fast, nothing passionate about it - but then again the two of you never 'made love', you were nothing more than _fuck_ buddies. You were just his warm body.

You feel the familiar coiling in the pit of your stomach, your thighs shake as you head towards your orgasm, falling off the edge you moan and shake. Pete follows soon after. The dark-haired man rolls off of you, and suddenly, you feel empty. Dirty. Sitting up you move to gather your clothes, this wasn't how this was supposed to go, you weren't supposed to feel this low.

"(Y/N)?" Pete calls out to you, but you ignore him.

You see from the corner of your eye, Pete standing and grabs his boxers before walking over to you.

Grabbing your harm, your movements slow to a stop.

"(Y/N), look at me," Pete says, but you knew it was a demand.

You look at the man, tears threatening to spill over and he's taken aback. Sorrow suddenly in his eyes.

"(Y/N)--"

"N-No, Pete stop..." you say weakly, gently pulling your arm away.

"(Y/N), please-- _"_ he begind, voice pleading.

"Don't," you hiss, your sad eyes now glaring harshly. "Don't you fucking dare, we're over, Pete."

"What?"

"You heard me, we're done."

"Don't say that."

"Too late, Pete," you reply, adding venomously. "I'm done being your warm body."

Your sharp words don't only visibly hurt Pete, but yourself as well. Pulling on your shirt you see him about to speak but hold up a hand.

"Save it," you whisper, and walk out of his hotel room.

That night was the last time you spoke to Pete.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"(Y/N)?" You hear a voice call out, turning you stop and smile.

"Patrick!" You exclaim, walking up to the singer you hug the man.

It had been a little over a month since the tour had ended, and least to say, you missed Patrick. You feel the warmth radiating off the blonde, thankful for it as the two of you stand in the cold late December air. Pulling away, you notice Patrick's dressed up.

"Where are you headed?" You ask, smiling. "You look so snazzy!"

The singer blushes and chuckles, "Trohman's having a New Years party," he replies, smile growing wider as he adds. "You should come!"

"Are you sure, I wasn't invited so it might be rude to just show up," you reply, but suddenly feel a bit happier than you have in a while.

"Dude, it's Trohman, _I_ wasn't even invited!" Patrick laughs and you can't help but join him.

"True, true," you giggle, but pause and look down at your clothes.

They were nice but not New-Year's-party nice.

"I'm not dressed," you say with a sigh, and Patrick rolls his eyes with a grin.

"Again, this is _Trohman's_ party, the dude's probably going to be there in his boxers for all we know," the singer jokes, smiling happily at you.

You chuckle and nod, "okay, okay, you got me, lead the way Mr. Stump," you tease, linking arms with the man.

You and Patrick make it to the party at around ten, it was already in full swing and you smiled hearing the music from almost a block away. However, this was L.A. and it was New Year's, so no one complained. Arriving at the house you and Patrick moved to get drinks, both settling on beer - for now. The night progressed, you were _actually_ having fun, you saw Brendon and caught up before being pulled away by Travie who danced with you until you were out of breath. Laughing you moved away to get another mixed drink, you you felt a tap on your shoulder, turning around you smile almost immediately fell.

"Pete," you say, willing yourself not to rill your eyes - of course he'd be here, how had you not thought of that before coming?

"Can you talk?" The man asks, pleading eyes. "Please?"

You wanted to turn him down, everything inside of you screams at you to simply walk away - or slap him _then_ walk away. However, you nod. You cursed yourself for being weak, but this was Pete, you could never really say no to him. The two of you go upstairs into one of Joe's guest rooms, Pete holds the door open for you to walk in first, closing it behind him. The music was muffled and the silence felt like it was screaming at you now, turning around you open your mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry," Pete says before you could utter a word. "I'm so fucking sorry, (Y/N)," the bassist says, eyes glued to the floor.

His voice was shaking.

"I never meant for you to feel like you were a 'warm body', fuck, I _never_ meant for that. I cared about you, I _still_ care about you. I haven't stopped thinking about that night, fuck...I couldn't sleep that night and felt like nothing but an asshole the second you walked out the door. I never stopped to think how _you_ felt about what we had, about what our fucked up agreement was doing to you. I was so fucking inconsiderate and had _no_ idea what I really had until it was gone." Pete pauses, looking up at you with red eyes.

No, no fuck no, please don'r cry, Pete, _please._

"I miss you, (Y/N)," he says shakily, wrapping his arms around himself.

Pete looked thinner than before, more tired... _hollow._ Practically a shadow of who he used to be.

The man stops, thoughtfulness in his eyes before he moves closer to you.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he says, voice so soft you only _just_ caught the words.

Your heart stops.

"I've always loved you...I was just to full of myself to ever admit it, I'm so sorry."

You breathe in sharply, your body shaking a little.

"Do you mean that?" You ask, voice weak to your own ears.

Pete nods, cupping your face an wipes away a tear you didn't know had even fallen.

"I do, I love you, (Y/N)...with everything I have, I love you."

Your heart swells at Pete's words, you smile softly and lean in to hiss him. The kiss was like nothing you had ever shared with him before, it was gentle, innocent, and filled with _love._ You suddenly hear happy screams and shouts beyond the door, pulling apart you and Pete smile at each other.

"Happy New Years," you say softly with a light chuckle, the smile smiles wide.

"Happy New Years," he replies, pulling you in for a hug.

Pete holds you tightly, arms you've dreamt about for the past month finally around you. You couldn't lie to yourself anymore, you knew you'd missed Pete all this time and he was, finally, yours.

"Will you be mine, (Y/N)?" Pete asks, hope in his eyes.

"Yes, Pete, yes, I'm all yours," You say happily, kissing him again.

 


End file.
